But you were his,,,
by Rosalie Maeko
Summary: George always saw Fred and Angelina as a solid relationship, but after Fred is killed, George and Angelina spark up a tighter bond and he learns more about his twin that he never knew. (Not about Angelina immediately jumping into bed with George). Rated M for later.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own imagination that likes to play the puppeteer with other people's characters.**

He had seen her at the battle, fighting beside her friends, getting thrown against the wall and managing to roll to safety. He ran to her as fast as he could, leaving behind his brothers. He got to her, taking down a death eater along the way.

"Ange," he panted, rolling her onto her back. She started to cough. George could hear an explosion behind him, some hundred yards away. He ignored it, explosions were occurring everywhere. Angelina's eyes widened.

"Fred..." she murmured, her face strangling into a form of terror.

"No stupid, it's George." He almost smiled, pulling her to sit up.

"No... Fred!" She pointed and started screaming as the cloud of dust cleared from the explosion. He saw Percy throw aside the rubble of the explosion and pulling a limp form from the mess. Harry and Ron skidded up, gripping the body too. It was only when they moved away from the body, Percy dashing off screaming something uncomprehending, that George saw his twin, his mirrored brother, the second half of his soul lying tight into a niche in the wall where his brothers and Harry has left him.

George was paralysed, except for his heart. He could almost feel it crumble in his chest and explode in horror. He couldn't move his legs, he couldn't stand, for if he stood, he would have to walk and if he walked over to the body of his twin, it would all become real.

"Fred- Fred- Oh fuck-" He heard Angelina whisper as though she was a thousand yards away. It was only when Angelina struggled to her feet and pulled George with her that he fell back into the present.

"Come on, we have to go." Angelina grasped his hand, ready to run back out.

"To Fred..." George whispered, his eyes glassing over.

"No, George, to fight." She left him then as his feet did not follow her when she tried to pull him out. Left their dark corner moments later, composing himself. He found Lee Jordon struggling against a death eater...

The rest of that night was a blur. He remembered crying by Fred's body, he remembered Harry, lifeless in Hagrid's arms until he tumbled down and the fight ensued. He remembered Voldemort's, as still as his brothers. He remembered waiting for the sense of relief when Voldemort died. He remembered the small spark of contentment in his stomach until he turned his head to the but found an empty space. The spark died. His natural instinct to turn to Fred had burdened him. The rest of the night was a blur. He didn't eat or and only slept when his body gave up on him, but only to be woken up when his dreams were invaded by images of his brothers body.

Waking with a jerk, he got up and moved from the soda in the Gryffindor Common-room where he sat beside Lee Jordon. He exited the Gryffindor Tower and and made his way down to the great hall where they bodies were still laid out, awaiting the carriages that would take them to their homes or desired locations.

The door of the Great Hall was open half a foot, so he slipped in quite easily. There were a few people fathered around fallen family members and friends. He saw Angelina crouching over Fred's body, holding his hand, tears running down her face.

"Ange..." George sat cross-legged beside her and looked down at Fred.

"What happened to your head?" She asked curiously. It was only then he realised that they hadn't seen each other in over a year.

"Mishap with Severus Snape last summer."

"Snape? Wha-" Angelina stopped talking and sighed. He wouldn't tell her. He didn't tell her anything last time they were talking, even when she brought up order related issues. She knelt up onto her knees, trying to stand up. "I'll leave you here with him alone."

"Please don't." He muttered.

"He looks peaceful."

"Percy said he died laughing. I shouldn't be alive if he'd d-" George's voice choked and Angelina took his hand.

"Don't you dare say that, George." Angelina squeezed him tighter, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.

"We were born together..." George choked,

"And you have to live on for him."

George didn't reply. Angelina stayed with him and held him as his body shook and his eyes streamed out tears until he couldn't cry anymore. Her hand was pressed to his chest, as if she was trying to conceal the hole, no, the cavern, that was forming through his heart.

**Rosalie Maeko**


	2. Chapter 2

**I've honestly shocked myself here, writing out another chapter only four days after I published the first… I am not good at grief… I've experienced it a lot but I am not great at writing it. Here is my best try.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Angelina didn't like goodbyes. In fact, they were her worst nightmare. She had said goodbye to her mother when she passed away when she was sixteen and her father when she was eleven. Her father was hit by a car and was kept alive long enough at a muggle hospital to have the family summoned and bid their farewells. It was quicker, and less painful. Her mother however suffered for six years with Scrofungulus. That was harder for Angelina though, as she could have been saying her last goodbye every time she left to board the Hogwarts express. She had been mostly on her own after that. She rented out her parent's house to a young newly-wed family after she left Hogwarts and made for Ireland, where she lived with an aunt and worked in Dublin. When the war broke out she was part of an aid and respite force that took in young children whose families were affected by war. Ireland was still affected by the war but the day-to-day lives of the wizarding community were less perilous.

At Fred's funeral she stood with Alicia and Lee and watched George struggle through his speech. George had everyone who wasn't already crying, sobbing into handkerchiefs and tissues. Angelina didn't even look right for him to be standing alone, like a an odd bookend, letting the stories between them fall.

In front of her stood Mrs Weasley who's arm was linked tightly to her husbands. Harry was on the other side, his hand being squeezed violently by Ginny. Ron and Hermione were in a similar position. Angelina almost smiled when she saw the youngest Weasley boy and the notoriously bossy friend together.

"Fred won the bet." She whispered to Lee Jordon. Lee looked down at her puzzled.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered. Angelina nodded her head towards Ron and Hermione.

"He said straight after school. I had end of their sixth year." Angelina muttered.

George re-joined his family and his brother Bill went up to speak next. His speech wasn't nearly as touching but it was loving. He talked of the daring duo that was Fred and George. "The twins are brought light and laughter to the darkest times and even though Fred is gone, his light is still shining. He would be very disappointed if we all stopped laughing."

They all stood arm in arm as Fred's coffin was lowered into the ground. The headstone was small and wooden, temporary before a new one would be put down when the grave was settled. It just simply read, Fred Gideon Weasley 1978-1998, on a little brass plaque. Tears ran freely down Angelina's face as she looked at the small cross, the salty drops blurring her vision.

Angelina joined the funeral congregation back at the burrow. She insisted on taking over the ropes of tea making as Mrs Weasley was forced to endure people passing by and shaking her hand as an offering of condolence, though most of the people there also lost someone during the war. Lee helped lay out sandwiches and other refreshments as Angelina charmed a tea-pot, milk jug and sugar bowl to float slightly overhead until they were tipped, indicating a refill.

"Thank you," George said, trying to lift his face into a smile. "For everything."

"Not at all. It's the least I could do." She reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze.

"He would really appreciate it."

"I know." Angelina smiled at that notion. She would have loved Fred to look at her with that kind of smile and tell her that he appreciated it himself. She missed his face and his smile. To her, George looked so different. Fred had a slightly longer face and when he smiled, his right lips rose to the right more, whereas George's left cheek rose to the left, kind of mirror images to each other.

"Is Lee around?"

"Last I saw him he was telling an epic tale of these two amazing ginger beaters- and the unbeatable force they were in Quidditch matches."

"To who?"

"Oh um, that tall bloke over there and the Minister of Magic." She pointed to where the Kingsley was talking to Lee and another man who she presumed worked with the Minister.

"Cheers,"

"George…" She just wanted to put her arms around him and squeeze him as tight as she could. They hadn't had many words between since the night in the Great Hall; just the formalities. They had both singed up to help rebuild the castle but that wouldn't start for another two weeks. He looked so lost in himself it made her want to take care of him, hold him, and tell him everything would be okay. But it wouldn't. The only thing that would make anything okay would be for Fred to walk through the kitchen door and say that there has been some terrible mistake.

"Yeah Ange?"

"Nothing, George… just… I've missed you."

"Missed you too, Angelina." He wandered away from her and walked over to Lee and Minister Shacklebolt and greeted the tall man as if he had met him before, which was plausible, Angelina realised, since Mr Weasley worked I the Ministry,

She made her way around the Burrows ground floor, checking the levitated teapots and left through the kitchen door to the back garden. Bill was sitting with his wife dutifully by his side. Ginny was with her brother Percy and Charlie was down the end of the garden, ridding himself of stress through violent de-gnoming.

She saw Harry spying something in the garden shed. Angelina made her way over to him and prodded him in the ribs.

"What are you lurking over here for?" She whispered with a small smile.

"What? Oh, hi Angelina. Nothing…"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicious eyes. "Stupid question coming up now, Harry, but how are you?" Harry didn't answer immediately. His hand slipped to the lock on the door and unlatched it. She cracked the door open. Inside the cramped dusty shed Angelina could see all sorts of Muggle items from plugs on the ground to washing machines and vacuum hoovers.

"Do you see that old motorbike? The one that's a bit scuffed up." Harry asked, a shadow of a smile playing on his face.

"What about it?"

"It was my Godfathers."

"Then why is it here?"

"Mr Weasley took it for a while… to fix it up a bit but with everything, it never happened. I think I am going to have a go."

"Maybe consult George on it, Harry. He will need something to keep him busy."

"Do you think he will open up the shop again?"

"That shop was everything they worked for. He will." Angelina smiled and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Maybe not just yet though."

"I won't be doing up the bike until I get back though."

"You're running off again?" Angelina asked, surprised. They started to walk off down the garden, the sun burning into their heavy funeral robes.

"No. Yes. Kind of. Hermione relocated her family to Australia. I'm going to help her bring them back."

"Mrs Weasley will have kittens if you three run off again!" Angelina scolded. She could see the shock on Harry's face at this.

"Calm down, captain." He half laughed. "Ron's not coming. He's needed here. Mr Weasley and Charlie can't take much time off work, neither can Bill or Fleur. If he leaves, the house will be empty, Mrs Weasley would feel abandoned."

"Well put, Potter."

"It was Hermione."

"Ah. So you and Hermione are going off to Australia without Ron or Ginny… That's very trusting of them."

"We won't be gone long."

"I know you didn't grow up with much of a family, Harry. The twins told me… but you have a great one here."

"But they keep dying, and it's usually my fault."

"People die, some sooner than most. It's the way life is, it's no one's fault. You of all know that better than anyone else."

"I've a Godson now. Professor Lupin's child. He has no parents."

"Well he'll grow up with one hell of a support group." Angelina nudged.

"I hope so. He just won't get to know his parents."

"He won't have to suffer that kind of loss…"

"You don't get-"

"Don't tell me I don't get it, Harry. My dad was hit by a car the morning after I left for my first year of Hogwarts. Mum died just before Easter of fifth." She kept her voice cold, not wanting to allow any sorrow through. It was hard enough dealing with Fred's death.

"I didn't know… I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Harry. Not many people know. I did however break the record on how fast someone can be summoned to the Headmaster's office. Eighteen hours into my first year."

"I should go find Ginny. She hasn't eaten properly since the battle." Angeline looked again at Ginny and realised just how thin she looked. She was wearing simple black robes what seemed to hang off of her. Ginny was always had an athletic shape but the last year seemed to have just drained her.

"I hope she's okay. I should get back to the tea-pots. They should be empty by now."

Angelina walked considerably slower than Harry, loosening the tight robes as she trudged up the garden. Harry caught Ginny by the elbow and took her hand, and they walked into the house. George came out of the kitchen and made his way towards her.

"Hey, George," she smiled. George wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead to her shoulder. This was very unlike George "Mate, what's up?"

"You looked like you needed a hug."

"I'm fine. I am, I promise."

"I know, but I needed an excuse to hide. I need to get out of here."

"It's your brother's funeral."

"I need to get out of here." He repeated, his hand clasping around her wrist.

"To the shop?" She asked, starting to walk down towards the garden gate, beyond the Apparation shuck his head. "Mine then," she decided and took his hand to Apparate.

**The funeral is very vague, I know. It's how I wanted it. I hate funerals but Angelina would feel similarly to them as I would, that they are best forgotten experiences.**

**Best wishes.**

**Rosalie**


	3. Chapter 3

**Whoop-whoop! Chapter 3!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Quote belongs to Kevin Welch. You'll know it when you see it.**

Their feet hit the hard ground with a thud. They were in a spacious back-garden, not as big as the one at the Burrow, but big enough for a house on a terrace. There was a wooden shed down in one corner and various bicycles against the back wall. An old barbeque set stood near the back door. Angelina fished out her keys from her robes and opened the patio door.

"I haven't been here in five years." George mused.

"I had it rented out for the past two years but the tenants moved out in March and I came back in early April."

"Why didn't you come visit?"

"I tried the Burrow. The wards around the house were too strong for uninvited guests. I wrote to Fred though… he came over when he could. I thought he would have told you." Angelina finally managed to get the back door open and led George into the kitchen. "Sorry, the door sticks. Wasn't used very much, I don't think."  
The kitchen was just as George remembered; mostly white tiles on the walls with green floor tiles. The layout was different though. Before it was a standard magical interior hidden inside a very muggle looking exterior. Now it had muggle appliances that George had never seen before, unless it was broken in his father's shed.

"When have you eaten last?"

"I'm not really hungry."

"I didn't ask if you were hungry, George. Eggs?"

"Sounds great." He smiled. Angelina set a pot of water to boil and pottered around the kitchen as George walked around the downstairs of the house. The living room had changed too and a television sat in the corner though a layer of dust covered it. George supposed Angelina didn't use to very much. The same sofas and armchairs existed, as well as the coffee table. There was a stack of magazines, mostly muggle but a few copies of _Witch Weekly_ were thrown on top of the pile. An old record player was in the corner, which was considerably less dusty than the television set. Angelina also had various copies of her CV, each written out in perfect hand writing, not a drop of ink smudged.

The fireplace was blocked too by an electric fire though the fireplace itself was the same. George noticed a long picture frame containing three pictures on top of the mantelpiece. The left one was of Angelina's father; _"Derek Johnson 1949-1988"_ was engraved in small lettering above it. The picture to the far right was of her mother; _"Matilda Johnson 1952-1994"_ In the centre was a picture of the couple, their arms around each other and smiling. The quote engraved on the bottom of the frame however did not instil such joy. _"There'll be two dates on your tombstone and all your friends will read them. But all that is going to matter is that little dash between them."_  
George lifted his hand and ran his fingers over the quote. His mind fell to Fred's little temporary cross. _Fred Gideon Weasley 1978-1998_. He had never thought of the tiny dash as one's life, as symbolic of second they had alive on the earth, every person they met, every laugh they shared and every tear they shed.

George's attention was pulled away from the picture as Angelina brought in two plates of poached eggs and sausages. She lay them down on the coffee table with knives and forms, tidied up the resumés and went back to the kitchen.

"Hey, do you want-" She shouted into the room.

"Don't say tea. I'm fucking sick of tea." George groaned, taking a seat on the couch.

"I was going to offer you a beer."

"That would be fantastic." George smiled.

They ate their food in silence, then reclined on the couch, beers in hand. "I like the pictures of our parents. The quote… it's…"

"It reminds me to never take a day for granted." Angelina smiled, taking a swig of her beer.

"It's nice. Are you going to let me in on the last past two years. I hardly saw you."

"Well I spent them in Ireland with my aunt. I worked in a respite centre for families affected by the war. Pre-Hogwarts age mostly. Sometimes it could be one man or woman there with his kids and then his nieces and nephews because the adults were fighting or working here still."

"Sounds rewarding."

"Katie accused me of running away from the war and not helping… but I was. I just… I was helping those lucky enough to escape."

"If you could get away from it, you did. That's what it was like here… some people have just left."

"We even took in parents of Muggle-borns too. I had Dean Thomas's mother and little sister in, as well as Colin Creevy's parents. I… I went to Colin's funeral yesterday."

"How's Dennis?"

"Holding up… but Colin wasn't even supposed to have been there, George…"

"I know," he squeezed her hand. "Did you come back here much over the two years?"

"Only a handful of times… I swear I did write. Fred only replied to every second or third letter. I came to the shop once, to get some stuff for the kids in the Hostel… You were out. I asked Fred is it was Order business and he just shushed me and looked around like someone was watching him."

"We were being watched every day. We were often separated for Order work so we wouldn't have to close the shop and raise suspicion."

"Yeah I know… We eventually got talking when the shop closed. God I missed you two so much when I was away… and now I know I'll never see him again and it feels so much worse… I'll never get to apologise to him."

"What was the apology for?"

"We… Fred, he… Well you know we were kind of dating in school."

"Yeah I remember."

"When we left… we lost contact, as you know. I went to Ireland but we still saw each other. I'd come back every month or so for a night."

"Every _month?_"

"I told you, I did write…"

"He never told me any of this. I don't understand…"

"I think… he-we both kind of wanted it to be just us sometimes."

"Oh."

"Yeah… but then we had this big fight. He told me he couldn't do it anymore he wouldn't tell me why."

"Oh."

"I got so mad at him. And I told him I was seeing someone over in Ireland."

"Oh."

"Please stop saying _Oh_. I can't ever take back what I said to him! He died thinking I was cheating on him."

"No, Angelina, he didn't…"

"He did though…" Her eyes started to water again and she looked up at the mantelpiece. "They taught me to always be honest and I lied. He was the only guy I was ever with and I ruined that."

"He ended it, Ange. Don't go thinking you ruined it."

"I can't apologise though. And if I did, I'd be known as a liar. Which is worse? A liar or a cheater?"

"Angelina, you are a really bad liar." George laughed a little. "I dare say he knew. Nobody knew you better than he did."

"Am I really that bad of a liar?"

"So brutal."

"Damn. I don't think I ever told a lie to my mum or dad."

"I'm an expert at lying to my mum and dad."

"Oh I know," she smiled. "Tell me, what is happening with the shop?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

"Bullshit."

"Okay, I've been thinking about it a lot… we promised each other that if one didn't make it out, we wouldn't give up… and if we both died… we left the shop to Lee and Ron in our wills."

"Wow…"

"I might wait until after Hogwarts has been rebuilt."

"I am hoping to stay here long enough to help rebuild but I am needed in Dublin. There are a lot of loose ends to tie up. Some kids don't have parents anymore. I have to get them relocated to foster parents."

"Don't leave it too long."

"I won't. I'll be job hunting as soon as I get back."

"I will help in any way you can."

"Thank you." Angelina reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, then plucked the empty beer bottle away from him left to fetch more.

**I just want to let you all in on something that went on in Ireland in the 1960/70/80s. There was major conflict in Northern Ireland between two main groups of people who fought over British control in Northern Ireland, but also over the occupation of Protestants and Catholics in the same districts too. I am not great at trying to explain this to people who wouldn't know much about the history but basically there was a LOT of civil unrest, IRA bombings and civilians getting killed in riots and such. SO! Places in the south started opening up schools and other such buildings to offer respite 'holidays' to families, especially with young children. It took them out of the danger zone for a while. They could have a bit of peace of mind too and relax without worrying that their house could be beside the next car bomb to go off. Both my parents volunteered in one of the schools through the Order of Malta in Dublin. My Mam would tell me stories of the times and such so it gave me inspiration for Angelina's job.**

**I guess it's a bit like children being sent to the countryside during WWII so they wouldn't be harmed in the cities but more short term.**


End file.
